


7 P.M.

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Riding, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 01:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6931684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re eager. It’s not even seven, baby, and we all know sex is only good after eight thirty.”</p><p>“I can prove you wrong.” </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>a.k.a smoking ‘em all up and getting it on</p>
            </blockquote>





	7 P.M.

**Author's Note:**

> [whispering] britney made me do this
> 
> as usual point out any typos if u see 'em. this is stress relief porn.

The past week had dragged on relentlessly. It was Friday, now, and as Takahiro rummaged in his bag for weed and skins, Takahiro’s thoughts were swarmed with academics and nationals and the foreboding sense of graduation, though the moment Issei turned and grinned at him, those were pushed aside in favour of imagining what was to come. It was always the same, their lazy nights together. If they had weed— sometimes Takahiro bought some off of Kenji— they would get high, and if they had alcohol— if either of them could be bothered to buy some— they’d drink a bottle together.

“You’re an addict,” laughed Takahiro as Issei rolled a joint with elegant expertise, “I thought we were keeping it classy.”

Issei’s low laugh echoed in the room, over the sound of their carefully crafted _Get High & Get Fucked_ playlist. It consisted mainly of Drake, and was yet another cliché Issei indulged himself in all too gladly, if it was with Takahiro.

Issei lit the joint, and held it up to his lips; his movements were precise and practiced. They’d done this too many times, sitting on the floor of Issei’s basement when he knew his parents had the night shift at the office and hospital. Issei exhaled the smoke, and Takahiro leaned back on his palms and smiled at him as Issei closed his eyes. He passed Takahiro the joint, then, and Issei took it gratuitously. Their fingers touched, and Issei could feel sparks of electricity travel up his veins and into his heart and chest.

Issei drew in a breath, and let the warm smoke stay inside of his lungs for a moment. Coughing a little, he exhaled, and Takahiro laughed at him.

“That’s some strong shit,” Issei spluttered in a low voice, “Where the fuck did you get this?”

“Eita,” Takahiro told him as grabbed the joint from Issei once more to inhale some smoke. He inched closer, and aligned his mouth with Issei’s— they were millimetres apart— and exhaled into Issei’s open mouth. His nails scratched at the back of Issei’s neck, and Issei found himself closing his eyes at the sheer proximity of Takahiro. It had been too long, truly, and Issei’s composure was slipping dangerously fast right through Takahiro’s fingers.

“That dude from Shiratorizawa?” asked Issei. His breath fanned over Takahiro’s face.

“Yeah,” Takahiro laughed.

Issei exhaled slowly.

“Shit,” he breathed in admiration.

Takahiro hummed, and titled his head a little.

“You’re pretty,” mumbled Issei, raising a hand to map out Takahiro’s face. Takahiro leaned into his touch— it was warm and familiar and made his skin burn— and sighed, closing his eyes in contempt.

“Thanks,” he muttered. Bringing the joint up to his mouth, he inhaled one last time before extinguishing it in a haphazardly placed ash tray. Issei opened his mouth as Takahiro exhaled, and in that moment, they were perfectly aligned; a steady push-and-pull, as though Takahiro were the moon, and Issei the tide.

Takahiro shifted, then, and inched himself closer to Issei. His knees were on either side of Issei’s hips, and he shifted closer until he sat in his lap. Arms slung around him, he relished the feeling of the slow rise and fall Issei’s chest against his.

“I’m really fucking high right now.” Takahiro said lowly. Issei slumped against him, rested his forehead against Takahiro’s shoulder, and nodded.

“Take off your shirt.” Issei told him, “I wanna make out and fool around if you’re down for that.”

“Fuck yeah, I am,” he said, prying himself away to pull off his shirt. Issei tore his own t-shirt off, too, and Takahiro stared at the smooth expanse of his chest, eyes darting down to the coarse trail of hair at his lower abdomen.

“Pants,” he slurred, “Take those off, too.”

Issei complied. Takahiro felt his breath hitch.

“Why am I always the first one to get naked?” Issei asked.

“‘Cause you’re the hotter one,” snorted Takahiro as he pulled his own jeans off, regardless.

“Not possible,” muttered Issei. He smoothed a hand over Takahiro’s ass— still covered in his boxers— and pulled him towards him until their groins aligned. Heat seeped through Takahiro’s skin as Issei cupped one cheek, then the other, thumb swiping languid lines across his skin, over his thighs and up over the small of his lower back. Issei warm breath fanned over Takahiro’s flushed shoulder, and he shivered as he opened his eyes and sighed contently. Issei lifted his head, then, and smiled lazily at him.

Takahiro titled his head, and his fingers mapped out the soft expanse of Issei’s skin as Issei kissed him on his open mouth with innate gentleness. He was pliant against him, and his tongue was warm as it lapped at the roof of Issei’s mouth. Issei shivered, and dug his nails into Takahiro’s ass, creating red crescents as Takahiro rolled his hips and ground against him. Takahiro bit down on his bottom lip— sharp enough to cause a sharp sting of pain— and ran his fingers through Issei’s hair, moving gently and massaging the back of his scalp in a silent, unacknowledged apology. Issei moaned low in his throat and pressed back towards him, chasing his lips as Takahiro pulled back and rolled his hips slowly.

“You’re eager,” he said, “It’s not even seven, baby, and we all know sex is only good after eight thirty.”

Issei grinned sharply and ran his palms up and down Takahiro’s back, eliciting him to press himself closer to Issei’s body until their chests were flush.

“I can prove you wrong.” he said in a low voice as he ducked his head and pressed his mouth to Takahiro’s throat and neck, kissing and licking at it. Takahiro gasped, and grabbed Issei’s shoulders as Issei pressed a kiss to his jaw line. He bit down— hard— and Takahiro moaned, rolling his hips to meet Issei’s upwards thrusts.

Issei shifted, then, reached behind Takahiro to grab a bottle of lube from his bag. Takahiro watched him squeeze out a liberal amount in his hands, and rub them together before staring at Takahiro expectantly. Takahiro complied, and lifted his hips to rest his weight solely on his knees as Issei reached behind him. Issei could feel Takahiro’s flushed and warm cock against his abdomen, and it leaked dribbling precome.

Kissing his shoulder, Issei fisted his own cock and pumped whilst sliding his lube-coated hand over the cleft of Takahiro’s ass. Takahiro shivered, and his hips jerked towards Issei. The tip of Issei’s index finger slipped inside him, and Issei thrust it gently as Takahiro rolled his hips towards him. Closing his eyes, he arched his back and bit back the keening whimper as Issei squeezed his finger all the way in and hooked it.

“You’re so tight, baby.” Issei breathed hotly into his ear, “ _Fuck_ — you’re sucking me inside.”

“Holy shit,” choked Takahiro as he swivelled his hips in an effort to gain friction. He ground himself down on Issei’s finger as Issei licked at his shoulder, pressing his open mouth against the smooth skin there.

Issei rubbed his own hardened cock against Takahiro’s inner thigh and slid in a second finger. Takahiro took him with obscene noises as he thrust down on his hand. Issei spread his fingers, and he could feel heat burning between them. Takahiro licked his lips and moaned in appreciation before swallowing around another broken moan as Issei thrust his fingers upward.

“C’mon,” keened Takahiro as he grasped his wrist, “Fuck me.” he hushed, staring into Issei’s eyes with unusual determination and dedication.

“Fuck,” breathed Issei, “Okay— yeah, okay— sure— I’ll just go get a—”

“Ditch the condom,” Takahiro whispered, “I want to feel you come inside me.”

Issei could feel his breath hitch audibly.

“Okay,” he said weakly.

“Okay?” Takahiro teased.

“More than okay,” Issei promised, kissing his cheek sloppily, “Fuckin’ _awesome_.”

 “Good,” he said lowly before shifting, hovering millimetres above Issei’s dripping cock. Issei wrapped his arms around Takahiro, and kissed along his neck.

Takahiro lifted himself before pushing himself down on him. Issei moaned, and traced his lips over his jaw.

“You feel so good,” he murmured into his ear as Takahiro gasped, grasping at Issei’s bare shoulders. His nails dragged across his skin, and left jagged red marks that marked Issei as his.

Issei licked at the shell of his ear.

“I could fuck you all day,” Issei whispered.

“Yeah?” Takahiro spoke in a hitched breath.

“Fuck, yeah. You’re so fucking hot— you’re the _best_ ,” he promised.

Takahiro’s cock twitched and a low groan escaped out of his tightened throat. Swivelling his hips, he took more of Issei inside him until Issei’s breath came out rapidly against Takahiro’s shoulder and neck. All Takahiro could feel was Issei; his nails digging into his hips, his warm body, and his cock inside of him.

Issei’s grip tightened and he shoved Takahiro down the rest of the way. Hissing out his name, his eyes screwed shut as Takahiro rolled his hips and tipped his head backwards as his body quaked. Issei mouthed Takahiro’s name as though it were a prayer. Takahiro’s breathing came uneven, and his throat was long dry; he was parched and begging for Issei as he arched over him.

Issei’s fingers traced along Takahiro’s skin, travelling up his chest slowly until he cupped his face and stared at him. He was beautiful in the way men seldom were; his body was fluid as though he were liquid, and he curled against him. Heat radiated off him— soft and sated— and his lips curved into a sloppy smile as he found his eyes. He was perfectly content, and despite the haze of lust and smoke, Issei suddenly felt overwhelmingly happy.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” he marvelled. His face flushed, and his words sounded too raw.

Takahiro smiled, and swivelled his hips to beckon more movement. Issei complied, and pulled him down into each thrust— harder and harder to the pounding bass of the music around them— and pressed up as deep as he could. His fingers clung onto Takahiro’s hips, and he dragged his nails into the pale skin there and trailing them down Takahiro’s thighs as Takahiro moved faster to the beat of the music. Marvelling at contrast of their skin tones and the hidden strength in Takahiro’s loins, Issei’s breaths came out harsher as Takahiro groaned into his ear.

Issei thrust up into Takahiro, and watched him moan and tense with pleasure before shoving his hips down to meet Issei as the bass dropped. Issei’s fingers curled along the ridges of Takahiro’s spine and pressed his face to his neck, kissing and biting him. Takahiro tipped his head back, and thrust down harshly, ripping out a ragged gasp out of Issei’s throat.  

Issei wrapped his hand around Takahiro’s cock, and he pumped it firmly. Squeezing it tightly, he relished in the broken moans he elicited. Issei thrust upwards, and Takahiro’s pliant body rocked from the force. Issei gripped him tightly enough to bruise, and Takahiro writhed around him as he moaned Issei’s name.

Issei did not stop pulling and pumping Takahiro’s leaking cock until he could feel Takahiro tighten up around him and cry out broken moans of Issei’s name as he titled his head and leaned backwards, angling himself on Issei’s cock until he quivered. Shouting to the ceiling over the pounding music around them, ribbons of white come streamed onto his heaving chest and abdomen. Issei swore softly and kissed at his throat. Smearing his hand through the come on Takahiro’s stomach, he dragged his nails over the skin and coated his fingers in the white liquid before lifting his hand. Takahiro panted and watched with glazed eyes. His mouth was agape as he ground down on Issei’s cock as Issei stuck one of his fingers into his mouth and sucked on it, tasting and relishing Takahiro’s come.

Issei brushed his fingers over Takahiro’s swollen lips, and coated his own come over his open mouth. It drizzled down his chin, and Issei twisted his fingers over Takahiro’s chest. He collected more come on two fingers before pressing them against Takahiro’s lips. Takahiro’s eyes slid closed, and opened his mouth as Issei pushed his fingers into the warm heat. Takahiro sucked at it harshly, scraping his teeth over his knuckles and grasping his wrist, massaging and rubbing at it in an entirely obscene manner as he rolled his hips. He curled his tongue around Issei’s fingers and opened his eyes to stare straight at Issei with hooded eyes.

Issei lifted his other hand and pressed his palm against Takahiro’s cheek before hooking his thumb between his teeth and forcing his jaw open. He leaned in and kissed him on his open mouth, tongue battling with his own fingers. Takahiro exhaled a drawn out moan as though he were a porn star, and they kept their eyes open, watch each other incessantly as Takahiro rolled his hips and Issei lifted his hips to thrust up into him.

“I love being inside you, baby.” Issei groaned over Takahiro’s mouth.

“Fuck, yeah,” moaned Takahiro as he thrust down harshly, forcing Issei to pull out almost completely before slamming down back into him. His frame shook as Issei’s nails scraped up and down Takahiro’s spine.

“God,” Issei gasped, “You feel so good, baby— so fucking _good_ , holy _shit_ —”

“C’mon,” Takahiro rasped, “Come for me, and I’ll fuck you ‘til you shake.”

Issei’s body shook, down to his bones, and he thrust harder. He slurred Takahiro’s name, though his words fell away to incoherent moans and syllables that were strings of praise and curses. With one final thrust, he grasped Takahiro’s hips and ground them down into him until his muscles tightened as he released wet heat into Takahiro.

After a long moment, Takahiro pulled away and straightened. Issei whispered a moan, and sis lips stretched into a sated smile as he ran his palms up and down Takahiro’s thighs. He was gorgeous; bruises blossomed on his pale skin, and there was a sleek coat of sweat over his wiry, slim muscles. Takahiro reach out to stroke to bite marks on Issei’s jaw and neck, and smiled at him— a small little smirk— before leaning forward and licking along his pulse, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“I’ve got some more spliff in my bag,” Issei breathed, “What d’you say about lighting another one, baby?”

Takahiro raised a hand to press his index finger against his thumb.

“Smoke ‘em up.”

**Author's Note:**

> someone should create that Get High & Get Fucked playlist. if anyone does, hit me up yo!! 
> 
> here are some of the songs i listened to while writing this:
> 
> on my way- drake  
> going gorillas- doctor p  
> about face- culprate


End file.
